Setting The Bar

So we were watching our favorite re-run shows: Dharma and Greg, and the plot involved their two lives before they were married to each other. Greg had proposed to his girlfriend by putting the ring in a glass of champagne at a nice restaurant. The fiancee was recounting this to her future mother-in-law, who replied, "How romantic!" Then Greg's father, getting himself another Scotch, leaned over to Greg and said, sotto voce, "Slow down, son, you're setting the bar awfully high--it's a long haul." This, of course got a big laugh---even from us.

But, I immediately thought back to when CoolGuy and I were first together. My parents weren't particular demonstrative with each other. I don't recall my dad getting my mom flowers, except perhaps on her birthday. They kissed a little, sometimes he'd give her a little pat on the fanny in passing and she'd giggle and demure. So, anyway---I didn't have great expectations of fabulous romance. Plus, I'd inherited the practical gene from my mom, and I hadn't had any boyfriends up to that point who'd gone out of their way to be particularly chivalrous. And--gee---I'd spent most of my life being manly--hauling hay, milking cows, cleaning barns. I didn't have much practice being a delicate flower of a lady.

But the day that CoolGuy came rolling into the driveway with a bouquet of daisies strapped to the sissybar of his chopper...seriously...that was sooooo romantic and dear. I was bowled over. There was no special occasion, he'd just seen the flower stand lady as he waited at a light and thought of me, and acted on the impulse. It was awesome.

Just like tonight, when I came home from work, dead, and there he was, dressed in his jeans and boots and biker vest with the hand-embroidered "Shovelhead" patch on the back, cleaning the sink as he filled the dishwasher. He set the bar high with the daisies and he just keeps leaping over it, higher and higher.